


Poker Face

by noctourne_prince



Category: Kick-Ass (2010), Kick-Ass (Movies)
Genre: Multi, Psychological Torture, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-05-01 11:18:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5203808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noctourne_prince/pseuds/noctourne_prince
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>College student Vivien Powers had it made. Near-perfect grades, a loving boyfriend, Nicholas, and a well-paying part-time job working for Nicholas' father. What kind of job pays a 21-year-old five figures? Being the new heir to a criminal empire does. Unfortunately for Vivien, the recent uprising of heroes might put all of that in jeopardy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Spaghetti and Meatballs

**Author's Note:**

> Yo, how 'bout my first story? It's based on this RP-type scenario myself and my friends talked through where we lived in the Kick Ass universe and took sides as heroes, anti-heroes, and villains. They're writing for their characters, too, but not here, so I'll try to make this understandable without their parts. The characters of the actual series aren't prominently featured in this story, and are, at most, mentioned in passing; we basically just borrowed the universe. Anyway, hope you guys like this!

Everyone likes a good hero story. You start off with the underdog and cheer them on through their trials and tests of character until they face off the big boss. Nine times out of ten they win, and it’s smiles, laughter, and celebrations all around. Get the love interest. Happy times. Roll credits.

I was never fond of hero stories. They’re too predictable and boring. No, I was always drawn to the aesthetic of the villain and craved it more than anything. I always told myself that all I needed was a little push in the right direction, and I would be an unstoppable force hell-bent on creating my own empire. Well, this is the story of that unstoppable force meeting an immovable object; a clash of wills, a test of intelligence and skill. Cliche, I know, but sometimes things get that way in life. 

\--

I was on my second year of college when the phenomenon of Kick-Ass swept the nation. Everyone, it seemed, was talking about him, and especially here in New York City, his hometown. They were excited that someone was “sticking up for the little guy” in a place where their voices often go unheard. He was celebrated as a bona-fide hero while I, for one, was less than impressed.

“I think he’s an idiot.” I said through a frown, glancing up at the news broadcast on the large, mounted flat screen with obvious distaste. After a beat, I continued sipping from my cup of tea, tapping out my daily agenda in my phone. Between school, helping manage my boyfriend’s father's business, and finding time for said boyfriend, it helped to have good time management skills.

A saucer was placed gently beside my mug by Paula, the maid of the house, and a large homemade chocolate muffin soon after. I thanked the small, motherly woman, and began nibbling at it between sips of chai.

“Viv, don’t be so cynical.” Nicholas, my boyfriend, chided me playfully through mouthfulls of Fruity Pebbles. He spooned so much of the multi colored flakes in there he could barely be understood. “I think he’s very brave for doing what he does. He could have been _killed_ or something, you know? But he fights for those people anyway. That’s admirable.”

Nicholas’ father and my patron, Anthony Cerrone, gave him a sideways glance of mild annoyance as he set down his cup of coffee. We met eyes across the table for a brief second; there were no words said, but we shared the same look. “Sure, Nicholas, admirable.” he said, moving his eyes back to reading something on his tablet. “Now, shouldn’t you two be off to school? You’ll be late if you don’t leave soon.”

I checked the time on my silver Omega watch, (a gift from Anthony last Christmas; it was so expensive I tried to refuse it, but he insisted, and now I never take it off for fear of losing it) and he was right: we had to be in class in just over 30 minutes. With the distance we have to go on top of the traffic near the school, if we didn't leave now, we would be late for our first class. Finishing off my chai and muffin, I got up and began collecting my bag and laptop from the kitchen bar chair. “ _Come on_ , Nick. We have to go.”

As I hoisted my backpack onto my shoulder, Nicholas began practically breathing in the remainder of his cereal, spilling droplets of milk on his shirt. He didn’t seem to notice or have any intention of lessening his mess. I walked over to him with a sigh and smacked the spoon gently from his hand, ignoring his indignant noise of protest. I picked up the table napkin beside his bowl and began rubbing at the wet spots on the expensive fabric.

“Son, sometimes I wonder why she even puts up with you.” Anthony said with a shake of his head and an amused, lopsided smile. He paused for a moment, and looked up from his tablet to me. “Which reminds me. Vivien, will you need Mark to take you to your extracurriculars today, or do you want to be taken home after school?”

“Um…” I contemplated my patron’s offer as I made Nicholas stand, handing off my laptop to him so I could straighten out his disheveled collar. Once finished, I turned to him and nodded politely. “Sure, I’ll take the ride today.”

He half smiled as a sign of approval, and returned his focus to the tablet in his hand, taking another sip from his coffee. 

After I gave Nicholas a once-over, I took my laptop back and motioned for him to get his things from the bar as I headed out to the front door. He followed not far after, but I was already situating myself in the back seat of our escort car by the time he walked down the front steps.

“Mr. Cerrone wants you to help him out at the fish market again today.” Mark, Anthony’s driver, informed me as I fastened my seatbelt. He eyed Nicholas coming down the crescent-shaped driveway, making sure our conversation was to the point.

I nodded at the kind, middle aged man in reply. “Shang giving him problems still? I just went over to talk to him earlier this month, this is _ridiculous_. I guess I'll have to be a bit more insistent this time.” I sighed as Nicholas opened the door opposite to me and clumsily seated himself in the car. 

As he pulled at his seatbelt, he leaned over and gave me a chaste kiss on the cheek with a soft, “Love you, Viv.”

I half smiled at him and went back to my agenda.

\--

Working for Anthony is always the best part of my day. It's when I get to unwind and release my stress in a constructive environment, as well as earn valuable skills and experience. Oddly enough, I wasn't the one he wanted working for him; the place I took as apprentice was originally meant for Nicholas. See, Mr. Cerrone, to put it simply, is one of the three most powerful men in the city; one of them being Frank D’Amico and the other being the mayor himself. For the most part, he's a businessman, but he doesn't hesitate to use illegal means to achieve an end that eludes him. He lords over over a sizeable empire as his father did before him, and as Nicholas was meant to, owning “investments” in the police department, a few hospitals, senators, and even local companies.

A few years ago on my 18th birthday, Anthony approached me about a job working for him. It was a little over a year into my relationship with Nicholas, and at the time, I thought he was simply the owner of a medical supply company. Technically, this was true, but he made sure to be clear that that wasn't the only thing he did, or my job would entail helping with. I was flattered when he said he saw potential in me and my skills, a hardness and drive to succeed that Nicholas, though we both loved him, simply did not possess and probably never would. I've only been working for him for about three years, but I am so good at what I do I was recently appointed his successor. 

Which is why I was sitting in Mark’s back seat again, headed to Shang’s Fish Market in Chinatown. It was early evening and already dark, on account of the heavy pelts of rain and thick clouds overhead. The water came down in sheets over the car and the few people persistent enough to venture outside, with only their umbrellas as cover. The ride was a slow one, so I passed the time by staring blankly out the window, not that I could see much, and humming along to the oldies rock that played through the speakers. Beside me was my bodyguard and near constant companion, Carson. 

Carson was a tall, well-built man; not huge, but intimidating despite this. He was Korean, with short dark hair, brown eyes, and a deep, soothing voice. Admittedly, he was quite the looker. I've never once seen him out of a suit, and I've never thought to question him about it; I just assumed he liked the look. Neither of us being the personal type, it never seemed to matter enough to come up. That was one of the many qualities of the man that I admired, and made me thankful for choosing him to watch over me. I trusted the man with my life, and the feeling was mutual.

I glanced over to Carson with an inquisitive look, giving my humming rendition of Iron Butterfly’s _Inna Gadda Da Vida_ a rest to satiate my curiosity. “Any idea why Shang is refusing to host our business any longer?”

He raised his eyebrow in obvious amusement, returning my gaze. Though he didn't smile, I could see the mirth in his eyes. “I was told it was something about us giving him a bad image.”

“Really now?” I tilted my head toward Carson with a grin. “We're such a respectable, profitable business! He should be lucky we've taken such an interest in his small institution. Oh, well. Some people have to be taught the hard way.”

Carson nodded and straightened his jacket as we pulled up to the large building. The big, flashing “open” sign spelled out in Kanji bathed him in an intermittent red glow through the car window. The way it outlined him, paired with the raspy guitar solo playing through the car speakers, made him look ominous. He glanced at me with a smirk growing on his face, handing my mask over to me. “Indeed they do, Viv.”

I took it without a word, and as he exited the car to come around and let me out, I took the short few seconds to hastily swallow the butterflies in my stomach and place the solid black mask on my face. By the time he had both the umbrella and my door open, I was composed enough to take the hand he offered me and join him under the cover from the rain, straightening my blazer. He reached around me to grab my bag of supplies off the car floor, accidentally brushing across my back as he did so. I forced myself to ignore it as he shut the door, hoisted the small duffel onto his shoulder, and allowed me to lead us to the entrance only a step behind me.

Again, he opened the door for me to enter the market and we stepped inside the the store. Immediately, we were barraged by the smell of fish and saltwater; not the most pleasant scent in such a high concentration. I was worried the unpleasant smell would permeate my clothes, and so decided to make this as quick as possible. As I briskly approached the checkout counter, I idly browsed the impressive selection of different seafood that was on display. Some were open and on ice, some were alive in fridge-like tanks on floor level, and some were pre-packaged in wall freezers. There were customers here and there among the rows of displayed fish that openly stared at us as we passed them. I payed them no mind.

The employee on duty--a Chinese girl who looked about my age--had a growing look of dread the closer we came to her. Unlike the customers, she pointedly tried not to make eye contact with either of us, and instead took to pulling at the sleeve of her jacket.

“Hello, my name is V.” I greeted the girl kindly to help ease her worry, though it didn’t seem to work. The voice changer in the mask was probably making me sound more intimidating than I was trying to be. “I’m looking for Mr. Shang on behalf of Anthony Cerrone. We have urgent business matters to discuss. Is he in right now?”

The girl’s eyes went wide, darting between myself ,Carson, and the door off to her left as she stuttered out a reply. “Oh, um...my father is b-busy right now. D-doing inventory in the back. He w-won’t be done for a while.”

I tilted my head to the side, narrowing my eyes at her, though she couldn’t see it through my mask. “Is that so? Well, if that’s the case, we’ll just sit and wait for him in his office. Please let him know we’re here.”

At that statement, Carson walked past the counter to the door the girl was eyeing so intently. Immediately the girl rushed to try and stop him, but after he shot her a sideways warning glance she stopped right in her tracks, backing up against the wall. Once he was sure she wasn’t going to move again, Carson motioned for me to follow him through the door, holding it open. I gave a disinterested look over my shoulder at the customers who had stopped to watch our little exchange, and as I walked through the door, they continued about their business as if nothing had happened.

Sitting at the office desk was a middle-aged Chinese man, tapping away on the obviously out-dated computer before him. He noticed us as we came in, and greeted us with an angry expletives in Mandarin that neither I nor Carson understood. I ignored his venomous protests as I took a seat in the only other chair in the small, mostly bare, dingy room, waiting politely until he finished his tirade. 

“What you two thugs doing here?!” He yelled at us in heavily accented, broken English. Carson scoffed from his place behind me, situated in front of the now closed door. 

“We’re not thugs, Mr. Shang.” I reassured him, interlacing my fingers in my lap. “We’re just trying to run a business. I’m sure you of all people can understand that.”

“I understand you thugs! You want me to ruin integrity of my market to traffic your drug! No more! I will not take order from children!” Shang slammed his hands down on his shaky, wooden desk. A small porcelain figurine of a crane toppled over against a stack of papers and manilla folders. He didn’t seem to notice.

I reached over and gently replaced the crane. “I’m going to ignore that insult, for your sake. Now listen, Mr. Shang, I’ve been nothing but cordial to you and your employees. I make sure my people make no contact with them and they don’t touch any of our merchandise, to ensure they have plausible deniability. I made sure all _you_ have to do is turn a blind eye to the extra crates that show up on the delivery trucks, and you get an extra couple grand in your bank account every month. You have it _made_. Why ruin my kindness now?”

Shang frowned at me, his eyes narrowing. He let out an indignant huff and shook his head. “I don’t have to tell anything. I don’t want dirty money. Leave me alone.”

Behind me, Carson shook the duffel bag off his shoulder and placed it on the floor with a lopsided grin. He slowly unzipped the bag and pulled out a neatly looped length of rope. “Looks like he chose the hard way.”

I nodded solemnly as Shang began to roll himself backwards into the corner behind him in his computer chair. He looked terrified. My giddiness was difficult to contain. “Indeed he did.”

Before I was out of my seat, Carson had bolted for the smaller man, pinned him into the chair, and was using the length of rope to restrain him. Once Shang had regained his bearings, he was only able to let out half a cry for help before Carson forced his hand over his mouth. “Would you hand me the duct tape, Viv?” he asked, his voice barely strained from the effort of holding down the other man.

Wordlessly, I walked over to the duffel bag and retrieved the large roll of duct tape and my case of tools hidden inside. After I handed off the tape to Carson I cleared off a space on the desk, carelessly tossing stacks of paper to the floor. By the time I had unpacked my toolkit, Carson had Shang properly restrained and gagged. He stepped around the chair and grabbed the man’s shoulders to hold him steady as I sat on the edge of the desk, admiring his handiwork.

“I always admired your rope work, Carson. Well done! I’m sure you impress all the ladies with skills like that.” I praised my friend, looking over the array of surgical steel implements I had beside me. What was I in the mood for that evening? 

Carson chuckled, shaking his head. “You flatter me, but thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, my friend.” I replied, finally deciding on and picking up a small scalpel. I turned to face the mortified Chinese man before me, surveying him. As his eyes began to focus on the sharpened steel in my hand, they grew wide. I knew what I was going to do.

“ _Inna godda da vida, baby...._ ” I sang softly to the music stuck in my head, leaning in closer to the bound man. The voice changer inside the mask made the notes slightly distorted and menacing. I placed my left hand on the side of his face, and I could feel him shaking in fear, a mixture of sweat and tears wetting my fingers. “ _Don’t you know that I love you?_ ” I slid my hand up his face and rubbed my thumb lovingly over his right eyebrow, bringing the scalpel ever closer to his bulging eyes. “ _Inna godda da vida, honey…Don’t you know that I’ll always be true?_ ” My thumb inched its way down to his eyelid and I held it open, keeping the man from closing it again, no matter how hard he tried. 

I could hear Shang’s muffled screams from behind the layer of duct tape as Carson’s hold moved upwards to hold his head still. The anticipation rolled off of both of us in waves, almost palpable, lingering in the heated atmosphere between us. After a quick glance up to my bodyguard, I slowly began to slip my scalpel between the side of his eye socket and the soft sphere of his eye, carefully trying to dislodge it. The man’s screams grew immediately louder, though the tape caught most of the sound.

“ _Oh, won’t you come with me and take my hand?_ ” The eye was halfway out now, and I could see Carson’s grip tightening on the man’s skull. His face was focused on me, and I had trouble keeping my voice steady under the weight of his gaze. A small stream of blood flowed down Shang’s cheek and onto my hand that was touching him. “ _Oh, won’t you come with me and walk this land? Please, take my hand…._ ”

With a small, wet pop, Shang’s eye slipped free from the socket, shifting gently back and forth against his cheek from the man’s trembling. His other intact eye was bloodshot and dilated, darting frantically around the room. I severed his optic nerve, and the now detached organ fell uselessly into his lap. Once I was done, I wiped my hands and scalpel clean on his shirt, returning it in its proper place in my kit. 

Carson, releasing the mutilated man, walked around him to help me gather my things again. He took the surgical tools and placed them back into the duffel bag. After zipping it, he hoisted it onto his shoulder again. 

I gave one last look at my handiwork before joining him at the door. Shang was still screaming, pulling at his restraints in a frantic attempt to free himself. In his fervour, his eye fell to the floor near his feet. “I think you’ll be willing to overlook your... _image_ problem now, won’t you, Shang? I’d hate to have to come back here again. It won’t be pretty. I promise you.”

Carson opened the door for me again and stepped aside to let me through, smiling as I passed him. “Are you hungry, Viv?” He asked as he followed and shut the door behind me. I halted at his question and turned to face him. We were only a step apart. “I know this nice Italian place that makes the best spaghetti and-” he looked down at the eyeball on the tile floor- “meatballs.”

I chuckled at the man’s dark humor, shaking my head. “Sure. I could go for some meatballs.”


	2. It's Getting Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vivien and Carson have a spaghetti dinner with some rather interesting (awkward) conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, sorry this took so long to churn out. I started school, and just...sorta forgot about it for a bit. Anyway, I'm gonna try to get the next chapter out in a more timely fashion. Hope you enjoy!

After leaving Shang’s Fish Market, Carson directed Mark to the restaurant on the other side of town. It turned out to be this small, family-owned Italian place sandwiched between a phone repair store and a coffee shop. It was warm and homey with a calm atmosphere and kind staff. A waitress seated the two of us in a more private booth off to the back, placed a basket of fresh breadsticks in front of us, and took our drink orders. Once she left, I let out a deep sigh, running my hand down the side of my face. Carson watched me with a vaguely concerned expression.

“You seem stressed.” He said simply, interlacing his fingers together on the wooden table. I could tell by his tone he was expecting an answer. One thing I liked about my relationship with Carson was how he could switch from submissive guard to concerned friend when we were alone. The facade of being the predecessor to someone like Anthony Cerrone can be taxing, and sometimes I needed to be told hard truths concerning said position, so I allowed him to be the person to tell them. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” I breathed, lolling my head back to the top of the booth we were seated in. My eyes focused on the stained glass light fixture above the table; it looked old and expensive. I decided I liked it. The hard rain continued on, and the sound of it pelting the roof filled the restaurant with a soft ambiance. “I just have some built-up tension, is all. What with having to deal with Shang this past month, and D’Amico’s people causing problems I have to handle since Anthony has too much on his plate already...I haven’t had a lot of down time, you know? It’s just been work and school, work and school. It’s a little tiring.”

Carson didn’t say anything right away. Instead, he picked a breadstick from the basket set between us and took a bite, chewing thoughtfully. His gaze wandered behind me, where he watched the rain against the wall of glass and the blurry shapes of cars on the streets. “Well,” he began, swallowing the last of what was in his mouth, “maybe some time off with Nicholas will help you. Like a weekend vacation, just the two of you.”

I raised an eyebrow, lifting my head from the booth seat. “And what exactly will that accomplish? I love Nicholas, don’t get me wrong, but spending time with him is...tiring sometimes. He has a lot of energy, and lately, I don’t have the patience.”

“Well, In my experience, leaving a couple alone for long enough definitely results in energy expenditure.” A low chuckle came from the man as he idly inspected the food in his hand. After shooting a smirk in my direction, he continued to eat it, savoring my mildly shocked and confused reaction.

Not wanting to give him too much satisfaction at my expense, I scoffed and turned my attention back to the light fixture. “I’ll pass on that one, Carson.”

He seemed a little intrigued by my answer. We rarely ever talk about my relationship with Nicholas, and certainly not in this context. I could guess he assumed I was just like any other horny twenty-something when it came to that kind of thing. He shifted himself in the booth seat so he was slightly leaning over the table.“Oh really? That wasn’t something I would’ve expected to hear.”

I shrugged in response, trying to dispel the growing awkwardness I was feeling about the situation. “Yeah, really. Nicholas surprisingly isn’t one for that sort of thing to begin with, and I’ve been to busy to put any thought into it.” I hesitated, looking off to the side and pointedly not at Carson as I debated whether or not to continue. In a temporary lapse of judgement, I did. “We have different tastes, anyway.”

For what it’s worth, the man wasn’t much for prying, so he let my answer stand unquestioned. Still, as the waitress came to deliver our drinks he made one last comment on the matter, under his breath. “Shame. You know, all you could’ve done was ask me.”

I didn’t have all that much time to process his barely audible words before the tall, brunette woman was taking our food orders. Carson took the liberty of ordering for me before I could even think about what I wanted. 

“We’ll have two of your spaghetti specialty, please. Extra meatballs for my friend.” As the waitress scribbled down the order on her small notepad, he shot me a sideways smile at the reference to his earlier comment from the fish market, but it felt like he meant it as an innuendo somehow. I blushed furiously and found a watermark on the table suddenly very interesting as I nursed my glass of soda. Once she was finished, Carson thanked the woman and turned his attention back to me. I was still making a point not to look him in the eyes, tracing small patterns in the condensation of the glass. After a while of silence, it seemed obvious he was daring me to respond to him in some way. I humored him.

“I don’t know what to say to that.” I said flatly, fighting the blush warming my face. I was embarrassed of my reaction; I was supposed to be the heir to a criminal empire and here I was getting flustered from an attractive man who was technically not even flirting with me. Shameful, really.

“Hm?” Carson raised an eyebrow, obviously amused. He was trying to get me to open up to him, I could tell. Myself being one not fond of conversation, this was something he did often in our almost two years of companionship, so I was somewhat used to it. Even still, this was a subject we’d never talked about on this level before, so I had trouble figuring out what was an appropriate response.

I sucked in an uneasy breath, took a small sip from my soda, and shifted my eyes to a space on the seat to his right. “What you just said. I don’t know what to say to that.”

He chuckled again, and I could feel my stomach churn with butterflies in a way I wasn’t familiar with outside of torturing people. It made me apprehensive of the situation. “To what? The extra meatballs? If you didn’t want them, you could have just said so.” 

Carson was being difficult on purpose, and I was beginning to get a little frustrated. I wasn’t good at dealing with these types of things, and to be fair, I wasn’t too great with people in general. “No, not _that_. You know what I mean, Carson. Aren’t I...a little young for you? I mean, I’m 21, but still. On top of that, I’m pretty sure Anthony would kill the both of us if he found out we were…you know.”

There was a long moment of silence between us. Long enough for worry to sink in my gut and goad me to check him for any accidental offense I could have given him. I hadn’t, if the small smile on his face was any indication. He was also openly staring at me. I dropped my eyes again.

He hummed, mulling over my response for a moment. “You didn’t say anything about Nicholas in that excuse, Vivien.”

My brow furrowed as I slowly realized he was right. I hadn’t actually given Nicholas any thought in this exchange, and the idea made my stomach drop. Looking up at Carson again, I noticed a small frown on his face.

“You know Viv, I gave my oath of loyalty to _you_ , not Cerrone, right?” Carson waited for me to nod before he continued. “That means I work for you foremost. I care about you. If you need anything from me, _anything_ at all, day or night, just call me. Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you?”

I chewed on the inside of my cheek nervously, still not making eye contact with the man. This was heavy. Too heavy, and I didn’t like it. It sounded like something out of a crappy romance novel, and honestly, I was half-convinced none of this was actually happening. Two warm, calloused hands on the sides of my face nearly made me jump out of my seat and grounded me in reality again. Carson tilted my head up, forcing me to look him in the eye. That was the first time I’d actually done that with him for so long. I’d never realized how _brown_ his eyes were….

“Vivien, do you understand?” he repeated gently, running his thumb over the corner of my mouth. 

My lungs started to burn, and I released a breath I wasn’t even aware I was holding. I composed my scattered thoughts long enough to reply, my voice low. “Yeah….I understand.”

A genuine smile graced the asian man’s face as he leaned back in his seat and folded his hands on the table. “Good. Oh, and for the record, I’m only thirty-seven.”

\--

Our meal together was surprisingly pleasant. We chatted while we ate, and ended up staying there for hours after we had finished, just...talking about anything and everything our minds drifted to. It was odd, but felt so very natural laying out my mind for Carson like that. We hadn’t talked this candidly in quite some time, and it was nice getting to know him even better than I thought I already did. My tension withered away with every word we spoke. Before we knew it, the rain had stopped, the sun had gone down, and artificial lights from the busy streets filtered in the restaurant. 

“Huh.” Carson noted, glancing down at his watch with a half-hearted frown. “It’s getting late, and I should be getting you home. Mark should be outside waiting for us anyway.”

I sighed, and I could feel the stress from before slowly creeping back in at the thought. “You’re probably right, as much as I hate to admit it.”

He gave me an empathetic smile. “You could always stay the night with me, if you want. Which reminds me; I don’t think you’ve seen the inside of my apartment. You can finally watch my 3D tv like you’ve been wanting to.”

After a second of blinking dumbly at the man, I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks again. Had he really been coming on to me all evening like I felt he was? I was probably just imagining the whole thing, and he was just being nice; his apartment was closer to here than my parent’s house. “Oh. Thanks, but I think I’ll pass on that tonight.”

Carson shrugged, not even the least bit put off by my denial. “Some other time, then.” He stood up from the booth suddenly and straightened out his suit jacket, redoing the top button. Once he deemed himself presentable, he held out his hand to help me from my side of the booth. I took it, and as I fixed my own clothes, he left the money for the bill on the table along with a very sizable tip. We walked out together, side-by-side, to Mark’s car that was waiting for us at the curb. As usual, Carson ushered me in first, then himself, and we were soon headed home.

Mark headed towards my house first, despite the fact I was the furthest away. Carson likes to make sure I get home safely, so I’m always the first to be dropped off. We shifted into a comfortable silence that lasted the entire car ride. When Mark pulled up into my parent’s driveway, Carson helped me gather my things from the car floor, passing them off for me to arrange in my arms. He passed me the last thing, my raincoat, and his eyes lingered on me expectantly. I stared back at him with a growing feeling of awkwardness, not really knowing what he wanted. 

“Good night, Viv. See you tomorrow.” He said gently, still not breaking eye contact with me. “Would you like me to walk you to the door?”

Suddenly hyper-aware of the length of time our mini staring contest was going on, and the fact that Mark was very much aware of this entire exchange, I shook my head in reply. Finally breaking my gaze from his, I shifted to open the car door. “No, I’ve got it. Good night, Carson. Good night, Mark.”

“Good night, Miss Powers.” Mark said from the front seat, smiling at me through the rear view mirror. 

I smiled back at him, then at Carson, and exited the car, hurriedly walking up the sidewalk to the front door. After fumbling with my key, I finally unlocked it, and gave one last glance over my shoulder as Mark was pulling out of the driveway. As he headed down the street, I took a shaky breath and headed inside.

My father greeted me from his place in front of the living room tv. He was watching a movie I couldn’t identify, seated comfortably in his armchair. “Hey there, sweetheart. How was your day?”

Still trying to calm myself after the day’s rather odd events, I shrugged as casually as I could manage, though it probably wasn’t very convincing. Either my dad didn’t notice, or acted as if he didn’t. “Not bad, I guess. There wasn’t too much to do at the office today, but I did have to handle a particularly… _difficult_ client.”

As I hung my coat on the hook beside the door and placed my umbrella in the corner, he made an amused scoffing sound. “And how did that go? You handled it well, I assume.”

“Yeah,” I breathed, remembering the irritation that Shang had given me today, “I handled it. Cleared up all the problems for him, so he shouldn’t be a bother anymore. How did things go with the Conroy case today? You’re home on time, so I’m guessing not that well.”

“We didn’t get anywhere today.” My dad answered, visible lines of apprehension forming on his face. Sometimes I worry about the stress his job gives him. Being head of forensics for the NYPD, especially now with D’Amico and Cerrone being particularly cross with one another, was definitely a hard job. The older I got, the more of a toll I could see it taking on him. My mother often suggested he retire, but he always refused. He loved his job too much. “Hopefully something turns up soon. I’d hate to see that sleaze David get away what he did to that woman. We all know he did it, we just need solid proof. In the meantime, we’ve been taking on smaller cases. Some Chinese guy got his eye gouged out today. His whole fucking eye! Just...gone. Won’t tell us anything though, and we couldn’t find much at the scene, so we’ve got nothing to go on. Probably just gonna drop the case. I feel terrible for his daughter...isn’t even much older than you, sugar.”

My eyes narrowed, and I made sure to keep my voice convincing as I made my way to his armchair. “Really? That’s crazy, dad. Probably very painful too, poor guy.” I leaned over the leather upholstered cushion and wrapped my arms around my dad’s shoulders in a hug. I could faintly smell his aftershave when I kissed his cheek, laying my head beside his. “I’m going to bed now. You should, too.”

My dad sighed deeply, reaching up his hand to pat my head. “I will, sugar. Just...let me finish my movie, okay?”

I frowned, but didn’t protest him. “Alright. But make sure you get some sleep, okay? You look like you need it.” Giving him one last kiss for good measure, I adjusted my bag on my shoulder and headed up the stairs to my room.


	3. Unhealthy Cravings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vivien realizes their relationships with the Cerrone men are not as idealistic as they would like to believe.

School for me was a boring affair this year. I was in my second year of college, so I had mostly basic core classes for the half-days I spent there. Less time focused on school meant more time to divulge to my job, but due to growing demands for the past few months, I haven’t been able to have much of a social life anymore. Honestly, if it weren’t for the fact his father was my patron, I probably wouldn’t even be seeing Nicholas as much as I do besides here and there between classes. Some of ours were close together, so he usually walked with me to mine.

“Hey, Vi.” Nicholas greeted me with a kiss on the cheek as I walked up to him from leaving my english class. He smiled at me warmly, and I couldn’t help but to smile back at him; his positivity is contagious.

“Hey, Nick. How was world history today?” We fell into step as we walked side-by-side toward my psychology class since it was closer than his phys ed in the gym. Our hands clasped together, and he leisurely rubbed circles on mine with his thumb.

He sighed, a frown of annoyance clearly visible on his face at the thought. “I’m so tired of hearing about World War II. It’s the same thing over and over every year! I mean, I know it’s important for us to learn about, but I’m pretty sure I know more about that than I do the Gulf War, and that’s recent.”

I shrugged, humming my approval. “Fair enough. I told you you should have taken the _early_ history one.”

“I know I _should have_.” He answered, shifting closer to me to allow another student to pass on his left. “It’s just that I didn’t want to take anything too difficult; the only opening for the early history class was with a teacher that was hard to pass with. I’m lazy and that’s a lot of work.”

“Then you can’t complain, Nick.” I shook my head at his previous comment. “And besides, I had that one last semester. Granted, I only got a B- because I was slacking a bit, but that’s not the point here.”

Nicholas chuckled. “I’m not as driven as you are, Viv.”

I elbowed him playfully. “You can be. I know you have it in you, and your dad does, too.”

There were a few beats of silence as Nicholas thought out his next words carefully. He seemed nervous as he spoke. “You’ve been spending an awful lot of time with my dad lately. Should I be concerned? I mean, I don’t want you to neglect your family or anything.” 

My eyebrows knitted together in thought, and a slight frown formed for only a second. It wasn’t the first time Nicholas had expressed concern for my long working hours, but this time it seemed different; it was the first time he framed it in respect to his father. “You guys are part of my family too now, Nick; I thought you knew that. Besides, it’s fine. Dad’s been working on the Conroy case and they haven’t made much progress, so he hasn’t been home often. Mom doesn’t like it, but...she’s used to it now, I guess. She usually brings him lunch to the lab so it’s not all bad.”

Nicholas frowned slightly. “Oh. So they don’t mind you working with my dad all the time? I mean, you are there an awful lot.”

I scoffed at him before I could stop myself. “Why would they? I’m just helping at the supply store.”

He nodded curtly, gazing off ahead of us. “Yeah, just the supply store.”

\---

“Nicholas asked about my hours today. Said he’s concerned.” I sighed deep and stared mindlessly into my teacup, deciding to take a sip from it to help soothe my buzzing brain. My gaze shifted up to Mr. Cerrone, who was seated across from me at the small, square table. 

We were having a late lunch together in one of his friends’ coffee shop. For the life of me, I couldn’t quite remember the woman’s name, but the tea was wonderful here, so she had a good image in my mind. In any case, this was the spot we went to when we wanted to have some time to just talk; just mindless banter that often is needed for a sense of normalcy in this line of work. 

Anthony tilted his head in thought. “Oh really? Concerned for what?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know, that I’ve been spending too much time with you? Not spending enough time with my family? He seemed pretty evasive, now that I think about it. You don’t think…?”

“He knows you’ve been promoted from office clerk to protege? Probably not.” My patron broke off a piece of his red velvet cake with a fork and chewed happily, savoring the taste. “Nicholas isn’t stupid, but he’s oblivious sometimes, and he only sees the innocence in you, Vivien. I’m fairly certain it’s never even crossed his mind. Ironically, he came to me first about keeping you from knowing about--or getting involved in--my less-than-legal activities; I was surprised he was okay with you working the supply store. Funny how that turned out, huh?”

I took another long sip from my cooling Earl Grey and smiled at the idea. “Yeah, it is. But still, the last thing I want is him finding out about what I’m doing. There’s no telling what’ll happen, and I don’t want to lose him.” 

There was a beat of silence as Mr. Cerrone carefully placed his fork on the plate. He leaned over and steepled his hands together, elbows on the table. “Vivien, I wouldn’t worry if I were you. Nicholas wouldn’t leave you over your involvement with me; he loves you too much. That much is obvious. If anything, he’d be upset with me for allowing it to happen.”

Anthony had a point there. Nicholas wasn’t the type to give up on someone like that. In fact, I didn’t even think he had it in him; he’s too noble for his own good sometimes. I nodded my agreement and happily let the issue die, though still mulling it over in my head. Apparently, my patron could tell I wanted a change of subject.

“I have an important job, and I think you’re more than capable of handling it.” He started, easily catching my interest. A small smile crossed his face when he noticed my eagerness. “Something you may have a particular interest in.”

I raised an eyebrow and idly stirred my tea with the small spoon left in the cup. “Oh?”

“You remember that idiot with a deathwish? What’s his name...Kick-Ass?” I could see the amusement and mild irritation on Anthony’s face at the mention of the vigilante.

“Yes, sir. What about him?”

“Well, he’s taken to causing trouble for D’Amico and his people lately, which, I have no problem with.” He chuckled and leaned back in his chair. “Now, my issue is that the little piece of shit seems to have a few friends. At least, as far as my sources come to understand it.”

My hand stopped mid-circle, eyes narrowed. “Friends? You mean there’s more of those wannabe heroes? I thought one was more than enough.”

Mr. Cerrone scoffed and shook his head. “You and me both. There’s one in particular that’s been skirting dangerously close to becoming a nuisance for me. A girl. I don’t know what she calls herself, and I don’t care, but she’s already disrupted my drug transports two too many times.” A flash of anger crossed his face for a couple seconds before the lines smoothed to a more neutral expression. “I have an important meeting on Saturday night with a new interested party, and I have a feeling she’ll be there to ruin that, too. I won’t be able to attend due to some last minute business, so I want you to be my liaison and make sure everything runs smoothly, okay? It’s only going to be you, him, and respective guards, so it should be uneventful.”

I nodded slowly, taking in the information. Why hadn’t I been told about this sooner? I knew about the interferences with our shipments, but Anthony had told me it was just some low-level cops he paid off to keep their mouths shut. The fact he withheld this from me was...at least a little worrisome. I trusted him enough not to screw me over, though, so I didn’t speak about it. “Doesn’t sound too bad. Any information on what I’ll be up against? I like to be prepared, and it would definitely help.”

“I didn’t get much by way of that,” Anthony started, “but I do know that she’s around your age. Uses these...gadgets to fight with, souped up weapons. Get them away from her, and you should be able to take her out no problem; someone who relies that heavily on their tech can’t be that good at fighting. At least, in my experience.”

“That’s a fair point.” I said with a shrug, taking a sip from my tea. “So disarming the girl is top priority, got it. What do you want me to do with her once I capture her? Kill her? I’m assuming that’s what ‘take her out’ means in this scenario.”

There was a moment of silence where Mr. Cerrone took the time to mull it over. “No, don’t kill her. Bring her to me so I can question her. Maybe if we figure out who she is, we could get to him. If she doesn’t cooperate, we could at least use her as bait. Having Kick-Ass in our back pocket could be useful for us.”

I took another long drink from my Earl Grey, now close to room temperature. “Sounds like a good idea, Mr. Cerrone. And what should I do with the tech I get off of her? From the way you describe it they sound quite valuable, if not useful.”

He nodded and picked up his fork again, about to take another bite from his cake, before he paused. “You can keep them if you like them. If not, sell them for all I care.” He shoveled the piece into his mouth and chewed slowly. “Oh, now that I’m thinking about it, you are more than welcome to bring Carson with you to the meeting if you don’t want one of my personal staff. You never know what’ll happen, and I know you two are efficient and capable together.”

A proud smile made its way to my face. “You flatter us, sir.”

“I’m not past flattery when it’s due, Vivien. Just make sure that it’s always due for you.”

My gaze drifted up to his tentatively, but he wasn’t looking at me any longer; he was in the middle of breaking off another piece of cake. I quickly lowered my eyes before he noticed I was staring at him. “Oh, don’t worry, sir. That’s always my goal.”

Mr. Cerrone chuckled softly after he swallowed his mouthful of food. “That’s good to hear, sweetheart.” He straightened his tie absently and smiled at me, a sign I learned to mean he was about to leave soon. “If only Nicholas was as devoted to me as you are...things would be so much easier for us. But, that’s life; never easy.”

I drank down the last of my tea and nodded solemnly at my patron. “Indeed it is.”

A beat of silence passed as he checked his Rolex for the time. “Well, it’s about time for me to leave,” his eyes met mine with a distinct feeling of compassion in them, “but I really enjoyed this lunch. Same time Thursday?”

As he stood and straightened his clothes, I nodded in affirmation. “Thursday sounds good to me.”

“Great!” He smiled broadly, genuinely, and headed toward the door. After a few steps, he paused as if remembering something, turning around again. “Oh, would you like a ride home, or are you staying here a while longer? I’m going to be borrowing Mark for a while, and I know he dropped us both off here.”

I passively waved Anthony away. “No, it’s fine. Carson should be here soon anyway; he’s taking me with him to pick out a birthday present for one of his friends.”

“Alright then. See you later, Vivien.” He turned on his heel and headed right out the door, waving through the glass window as he headed to Mark, who was holding the car door open for him at the sidewalk. I watched in silence as he climbed inside, Mark returned to the driver’s seat, and the car pulled off. 

A slow sigh left my lips as my finger traced the rim of my now empty teacup. The longer I stared at the pristine white porcelain, the more stressed I felt. The fact that Anthony had been keeping the existence of this hero from me bothered me more than I liked to admit. What else could he be keeping from me? What else could he be lying to me about? Thinking about it made me feel a little nauseated. I’d given him so much of my time, risked so much for him….

Deep down, I could understand why, though I didn’t want to admit it. I’m a newcomer into his family, having only been around in this realm of his life for about three years, so the concept wasn’t entirely unreasonable. On top of that, I was still young, no matter how competent I was at my job. If he didn’t completely trust me, I could live with it, but it still bruised my ego like nothing else could. I’d gotten so used to Anthony’s praise I had developed an almost unhealthy craving for it, and I was sure he knew that; I didn’t exactly hide it, and I’d be stupid not to admit that he obviously used it to get what he wants from me. There was never much resistance on my part because we usually seemed to want the same things.

I leaned back in my chair and absently threaded my fingers through my hair, a plan budding in my brain. Maybe if I went above and beyond expectations, he would trust me more. If anything, it was worth a shot, and I could start with capturing that girl on Saturday. Getting information out of her before Anthony’s interrogation would also look good, if I could manage that. I just had to make sure everything on Saturday went smoothly; if it didn’t....well, I’d rather not think about how bad that would make me look. 

My thoughts were interrupted when I noticed Carson passing one of the front windows to enter the coffee shop. He walked up to the table I was occupying, but didn’t sit; he stood behind the chair Mr. Cerrone had previously claimed, leaning his weight on the back of it. 

He noticed my blank face and raised an eyebrow in question. “Something bothering you?”

“No, I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.” I shook my head slowly. Carson wasn’t convinced, I could tell, and I knew he would probably question me about it. 

“Okay then.” He removed his weight from the chair and looked me over. “Are you ready to go?”

The fact he let the issue go so easily was a little surprising, but that really only meant he would bring it up later. On another note, his question made me realize all the sulking I had done completely ruined my willingness to go shopping. I never liked doing it in the first place, so it was very rare that I actually did it. Now, the idea was just...unappealing.

“Actually,” I began, rising from my chair and adjusting my shirt cuffs, “I’m not really in the mood for that, if you don’t mind. Too tired. How about we watch a movie on the 3D tv you’ve been so eager to show off?”

Carson chuckled. “I knew you would back out of gift hunting somehow. But if that’s what you want, you’re more than welcome to come to my place instead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! I hit a bit of writer's block partway through and just sort of...forgot about it.


End file.
